Tales From Tamriel
by Akari78
Summary: A collection of short stories based upon many different characters. From first time meetings to misadventures, there's plenty to be read. Requests are allowed.
1. The New Housecarl

**The New Housecarl**

"Lydia, this is Iona, Iona this is Lydia," awkwardly introduced an all too glum Yosa'Min, "Lydia is my Whiterun housecarl and Iona is from Riften." The trio of them were standing in front of the redguard's home there in Riften, the smell of the canal to their left mixing heavily in the twilight musk of the city. Torches spotted the streets, and the guard or two that passed by granted them curious glances behind their helms, but none of the women payed them any mind.

The brunet haired nord cracked a slight smile and held out her hand. "You're not here to steal my job are you?" She joked, the fiery haired nord laughing in turn. "Was I not enough for you Yosa?" The redguard's eyes widened slightly and she gave a quick apologetic look but Lydia simply rolled her eyes. "That was a joke Yosa, do calm down." The redguard darted her gaze away, embarrassed for not realizing it.

"To be honest, I didn't even know the spot was already taken," Iona responded, taking the offered hand and giving it a firm shake. "I hope you're not bothered by it any."

Lydia hesitated for a minute, eyes roaming up the woman before her as if deciding something based upon what she saw, but it soon passed. "Of course not, the more the merrier right?"

Between them, the redguard gave a slight sigh as if relieved. She would be lying if she said she hadn't been the least bit worried about the housecarls meeting. "She kinda did the same thing as you did," she said to Lydia in a half reminiscent joke.

"Follow you home?"

Yosa'Min nodded. "Without giving me any choice in the matter either. I do suppose that with my new thanehood there are perks however, personal bodyguards being one."

"Let's see if you get along any better with these nobles than the ones back in Whiterun," jested Lydia, much to Iona's confusion. As she caught the look upon the redhead's face, an adorably crinkled brow, Lydia moved swiftly to an explanation. "Our Thane is not one for politics and schemes, especially if they appear pointless or entirely greedy."

Iona gave a nod of her head, pale green eyes settled on Lydia's hazel orbs before they flicked across to a dim blue pair. "It sounds like we have much in common my Thane," she said.

Instantly Yosa'Min cringed, a hand rushing through long wild black hair with almost sheer panic across her face. "Oh Gods! I have to break you too!"

"Break?" Repeated Iona warily, Lydia snickering to the side. She forgot sometimes that the antics and daily dances the pair of them had established could appear so foreign to others if not worrisome. Most housecarls didn't end up having to care for their Thane like she did, but most didn't become quite as important to their Thane either. Most housecarls remained professional with their superior, a loyal servant that perhaps could reminisce over good and fun times but at the end of the day they could still find who they were without their Thane. Lydia on the other hand had slowly begun to find she couldn't separate who she was without Yosa'Min in the picture, her purpose shifted to whole-hearted devotion. The redguard was like family to her, something that two years ago seemed entirely impossible but now it simply was fact. It was a dynamic she'd grown to accept and appreciate, despite its unorthodox nature. Iona, she hoped, wouldn't see this relationship and find it something revolting but instead could at the very least understand it. This had been something they'd had to work on greatly to reach this point after all and some outsider entering it left a lot up to chance. She'd be lying if she didn't say Iona's presence was worrisome, but she had grown to trust Yosa'Min and her decisions... for the most part.

"She means the formality," Lydia clarified with a wave of her hand, thoughts slipping away from her fears and back to her duty, "it took me years before I started calling her by name rather than title." Iona relaxed a bit at her words.

The redguard stood there a bit longer and then gestured towards the wooden door besides them. "Would you like to come in?" The sun was already gone from their view, the last rays clinging to the sky like the dying embers of a great flame, stars dancing to the forefront of the black stage to take its place and carry on with the second act of the sky's great play. "It's getting kind of late."

"Very much so," said Iona and the trio entered the quaintly sized home. To Iona's surprise, there was hardly any furnishings about the place. The doorway entrance led into a kitchen and dining area that had only a cook pot over the fireplace, a small wooden table and a pair of chairs as well as a cupboard in the corner. She could see where the house opened up on the right to a den of sorts, a bed centered against the far wall with another door that led to the back porch which overlooked the lake. All in all, it was devoid of any personal affections or decorations, as if they had just recently occupied the home or never felt as if it belonged to them.

"I hope you don't mind much," Yosa'Min said as she started to tiptoe towards the back door, "but I'm going to slip away for a bit."

Lydia shook her head. "No of course not, I'll show Iona around." The redhead brightened at the hospitality being shown, and nodded her head in agreement.

"Well so long as you're okay with it," Yosa'Min said as she picked up the pace. Lydia waved her on and so the Thane fled outside. The pair lingered for a little while in silence, Iona taking in what was to be her new home while thoughts gathered like storm clouds in Lydia's mind, threatening to burst into a downpour of housecarl concern.

"So then," Lydia said abruptly, breaking the silence and temporarily dispelling the mental clouds. "You have already seen the top floor, but allow me to show you downstairs." Iona gave a smile and nod, and the pair were swiftly making their way down a wooden set of stairs into a cobblestone basement. There was a pair of doors in the two two walls facing towards them, one which was simple an open doorway and the other nice wood. In the room they were in there was a pair of open cupboards, each littered with bottles and alchemy ingredients. Along the walls were a whole host of crates and barrels filled with Divines knew what. Tucked in the corner was a round greenish table cluttered with tools in which Yosa'Min practiced her alchemy with.

"I don't let our Thane concoct on her own," Lydia said, "I'm afraid she might poison herself if I do."

Iona's brow furrowed at that, greatly alarmed at the thought of Yosa'Min taking her life with a vial of strange herbs. "What? Why would she ever do that?"

With a sad frown, Lydia shook her head. "It is a very long story I'm afraid so I shall tell you after dinner when we don't have things to do. Just know for now that our Thane is not as cheerful or spirited as she used to be." Obviously annoyed at not getting the whole story just yet, Iona simply nodded and waited to be shown the rest of the house. "In that room on the left Yosa likes to enchant armor and weapons," Lydia said as she pointed to the doorless room.

"I take it we sleep in there," Iona said as she gestured to the closed door. With a half nod, Lydia led the way inside a very small room. To Iona it seemed no larger than a broom closet, hardly any floorspace left with a bed on one end and a wardrobe on the other, a half dresser stuck besides the animal pelt bed. "A little tight in here for two people don't you think?" She groused softly.

"We can move some furniture out as needed," shrugged Lydia.

"I don't suppose the second bed is on hand."

The brunet shook her head. "That's part of why we'll be busy tomorrow. Do you have all of your belongings here already?"

"I still need to get a few things, but for the most part yes," replied Iona. Lydia mulled over something in her head for a short while, debating what to do first and where to go to take care of some things. Yosa'Min had only faintly mentioned had plans to become a Thane in Riften but for the most part Lydia had been unaware of it. Iona's arrival was mostly a surprise, leaving her trying to make arrangements fairly last minute. The room and the state it was already in was evidence enough. "Where shall I stay for the night?" Iona inquired.

"You can have my bed, I'm sure Yosa'Min wouldn't mind sharing with me for a night until we get you a proper place to rest your head."

Iona cocked a brow suspiciously at her words. "Truly? She wouldn't have any problems with that?"

"She's not had problems with sharing her bed with women before, I doubt tonight would be any different." The response confused Iona but she decided not to ask of it.

After a minute or so more they left, heading back up the stairs to where they were hit with the smell of food. Lydia crept around the corner and was struck with silence as she found the redguard she lived to serve bent over the cooking pot, stirring the contents with a disgruntled frown upon her face. The table was littered with chopped vegetables and beef, as well as a few cloves of garlic. "Yosa are you cooking?" Teased Lydia as she found her voice once more, though Iona could detect levels of genuine shock.

Blue eyes rose to look at the pair, a slow shrug rolling off the redguard's shoulders. "Perhaps..."

"Well I'll be..."

A flush spread across the dark skinned woman and she dashed her eyes away. "I wanted Iona to have something nice to welcome her into our home," she tried to explain but she was quite flustered, words mumbled with embarrassment and half heard.

"So you decided to cook?" Lydia teased as she came over to inspect the stew.

Huffing, Yosa'Min shouldered her away. "I can cook you know!" She stuck her tongue out for a moment, playful if not a bit haughty. The ladle was held outwards at Lydia like a blade, warning her not to draw near once more.

"Oh certainly my Thane, but if you want to welcome someone into our home right, the meal should be of the highest caliber possible," Lydia said with a gleam in hazel eyes, "and I'm sorry Yosa but that would not be you." Yosa'Min swatted the brunet's arm with the ladle, but relented to Lydia's inspection, stepping to the side and watching the brunet taste and change the meal with curiosity. Something about the way the two of them interacted and spoke of Honeyside as _their_ home and not just the Thane's made Iona smile softly. Most nobility she met were rather full of themselves and the notion that the whole of the world was beneath them or revolved around them. Those kinds of nobles made Iona sick and she had feared Yosa'Min would be one such noble upon hearing she would be serving the Dragonborn of all people, but she was quickly being proven wrong and she was beyond relieved for it.

The decor of Honeyside and the garments her Thane wore were simple, void of any fanciful embellishments that served no true use or purpose beyond stretching that of one's ego. It struck her as odd at first but already she could tell Yosa'Min was no average noble. No noble she had ever known would even think of having a meal prepared in welcome to a new servant, much less cooking for their servant themselves, yet here the woman was before her, trying to wrestle control of the stew back from Lydia who was beginning to laugh at the attempts. The arrangements for the night when it came to sleeping were also certainly uncommon, only helping to build an entirely new mental image of the Dragonborn.

Iona watched from the side for a bit, smiling at the scene before her with arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. The duo were caught up in a whole host of antics as the ladle returned to its deadly food tossing purpose, Lydia's shirt having been stained red and Yosa'Min's hair now in need of a washing. It was like watching a pair of children at play, unrestrained and pure. As she laughed at the duo, Iona realized something quite tremendous. This was not just a job she had found, it was a home. The thought warmed her from the toes up, and before she could help it Iona was making her way over to join in the fun, the pair welcoming her in with gusto. If things kept up like this, Iona would probably come to love it here, but of course things could never be that easy.

* * *

 **AN: So I had this little notebook at Basic, that I'd write stories in, little things to keep in touch with my characters and because honestly I can never stop writing. What I decided was that the stories that I don't plan on later incorporating into my main stories are going to be put here instead in a compilation of one-shots that will tell all sorts of different stories and hopefully not be as focused on Yosa'Min. This won't be updated that often (as I'll focus on those actual main stories) but there will be things here sometimes too. Feel free to tell me who you'd like to read a story focused on next time, because I might just take you up on that idea. Thanks for reading, until next time.**


	2. The Start of Something New

**The Start of Something New**

The College of Winterhold was well known throughout the land, its name reaching the Imperial City and beyond, however this wasn't entirely for being a center of magical learning. Instead, the College was spoken about in hushed whispers, infamous and looked down upon by the harsh judgmental world, a stain of shame upon the people of Skyrim. When the city had collapsed into the Sea of Ghosts, and the College yet stood, the omnipresent resentment had transformed into utter animosity, leaving Winterhold a shriveled husk of its former self, and the College a place no one except mages ventured. This fact, combined with the city's already remote location, was exactly what had brought a particularly peculiar elf to it.

She was holding the fabric of her cloak close, trying to shield herself from the chilling cold rather than mask her face any. The dunmer didn't care who saw her, there was nothing she had to hide from, nor was there anyone either. The street, as there was only a singular one left in the city, was deserted, allowing the dunmer quick passage up to where the gatehouse of the College awaited. It was a little stone structure with a small overhang to keep the snow from covering the elf who stood on guard within it, a frosty altmer with her reddish brown hair pulled into two separate ponytails. The cloaked dunmer stopped when the altmer raised her hand, and simply waited for the command that was surely to come.

"Who goes there?"

"Siulon," the dunmer replied, pulling the hood down to expose herself to the harsh gaze of the altmer guard. "A fellow mage."

Faralda scoffed softly, eyes sweeping over the dunmer's horribly scarred left side of her face, taking in ghostly blind eyes and red hair nearly gone on the scarred side while wild and vibrant on the other. Dark red face paint swept away from the dunmer's eyes towards the bottom of her ears as well as bisected her lip, just how she had managed to make the pattern Faralda was unsure. "Question is are you any good?"

Siulon's expression did not change, and she simply looked at where she could tell Faralda was. "Would you care to find out?" She inquired slowly.

"Yes, I would," Faralda responded, crossing her arms and jutting a hip slightly with a twinge of annoyance. "Summon me something," she ordered.

"That all?"

"For now..."

With the faintest of smirks, the dunmer raised her hands and began to move them in slow, methodical motions, drawing lines in the air as dark light swirled around them. It did not stop there as Faralda expected, but rather there was a rush of purple and black light, spinning around the dunmer who seemed perfectly at peace, and then exploded outwards from her hands to consolidate into a massive swirling singularity of darkness, white magic flashing around it as the world reverberated with a deep sound, and the singularity imploded. Standing there in the snow was a creature garbed in terrifying black and red armor, a dunmer like face painted with red and horns growing from its forehead back. It held a massive glowing red blade in its hand, and scowled up at Faralda who had paled with freight. "Is that... A dremora?"

Sniffing, Siulon stared sightlessly up at the altmer. "Seems like it does it not? Care to make sure?"

"No I'm perfectly fine here."

The dunmer smirked. "Of course." She flicked a hand and the dremora vanished with another implosion. "Anything else you require of me before I may enter or are you done doubting?"

Faralda, despite the tremendous display of power she had just seen, gave a slight huff. "It's simply procedure, you must realize."

"Of course."

Scowling still, she gestured towards the crumpling bridge that would take Siulon across to the College. "You may enter." With her chin held ever so slightly high, the dunmer passed by Faralda, and made her way towards her destination. Her steps were mindful, ears straining to hear the sound of scuffling rocks over the howling wind and she clutched her cloak a bit closer. Eventually, after only one stumble, she was at the gates of the College, a hand reaching out to feel the black metal and the intricate eye-shaped design that bore the emblem of the College of Winterhold. Steeling herself slightly for what she expected to come, she pushed it open and entered the College.

Instantly she was hit with a sense of peace, the howling wind for the most part blocked outside now and she could feel the soft crunch of snow on stone underfoot. There was some bird singing nearby, the smell of snowberries and trees, and the twinkling sound of magic. Siulon narrowed her eyes slightly in thought, an instinctive gesture rather than one she needed to make to help focus, and her ears twitched. There were columns of stone encircling the courtyard, ancient architecture designs, and three towers in all. A group of babbling students were exiting the one to her left, and the dunmer turned towards them hoping to get their attention. She knew she had it when there was a very sharp feminine gasp, and the dunmer bit her tongue with annoyance.

"I'm looking for Savos Aren," she called out.

"Arch-mage Savos Aren?" The female of the group replied, their footsteps signaling their approach, snow crunching and stone clattering.

"What does stranger want with Arch-Mage?" To Siulon, it sounded like a male khajiit, raspy and exotic.

"Obviously she's joining the College J'zargo," another male voice said. J'zargo huffed, stomped a foot and Siulon scowled a bit deeper. "He should be in the Hall of the Elements, it's directly across the courtyard... Do you need any help getting there?" He offered nicely, Onmund looking a bit skeptical she could make it there on her own without getting lost.

With a slight wave of her hand, she twitched an ear and turned back out towards the courtyard. "Are there any obstacles in the way?" She inquired, listening intently to the area she was within.

"There's a statue of our founder in the center, along with a mana pool. There's some trees and the sort with it too. You'd be best to just go around the circle to it, and the Hall of the Elements has the big double doors." Siulon nodded in response, and held a hand out until she found the stone wall that encircled the courtyard, finding the grooves of age on the structure and the cold smoothness to it soothing. Moving quite swiftly, she worked clockwise and soon enough found her fingertips trailing the splintering fanciful door of the Hall of the Elements. She could still hear the students whispering, most likely about her scars, and Siulon grumbled softly as she entered the warmth of the tower.

The sound of mages conversing about magic, one or another lecturing and spewing out eccentric words in tandem, echoed off the walls, bouncing off the circular still design. It sounded as if the whole room was enclosed and vast, a stairway to both sides as Siulon heard footsteps going up and down to her flanks. It didn't take a moment for her presence to be noticed, and someone scurried right over to her. "Excuse me, but are you joining us here at the College?"

"Perhaps... I'm not certain yet."

"Ah, well that is perfectly fine. My name is Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard here at the College," the breton woman replied, and to Siulon is sounded like she was expecting the dunmer to do something.

"Are you holding out your hand?" Siulon drawled, blinking slowly.

"Oh... I'm sorry..." Mirabelle replied with embarrassment. "Habits, I suppose."

The dunmer shrugged, "I suppose. Fret not, I'm not offended. I would like to see Savos Aren however."

Mirabelle gave a hearty nod, "Of course of course... He should be in his quarters right about now, I think you just missed him in fact. Allow me to escort you there." Siulon did not reply, but instead followed Mirabelle as she began to ascend the stairs Siulon had heard earlier. They spiraled upwards for two flights, their steps echoing heavily on the stone material, and then stopped at a landing. Mirabelle knocked on a door, the sound echoing just like their steps with a heavy note, and then entered. "Excuse me... You have a visitor," Siulon heard her say.

"Now who might that be?" He replied, "I wasn't expecting anyone for some time."

"A blind dunmer mage that-"

"Siulon?" He cut her short, shock so thick in his voice the dunmer awaiting outside chuckled softly. "Please, do bring her in." Siulon did not wait for Mirabelle to do so, and instead entered herself, lifting her chin with a curling grin upon her face. Savos had turned towards her, taking in the dunmer with a slightly pained expression, and gestured for Mirabelle to leave them. "Make sure we are not disturbed," he ordered as the breton departed. Neither of them spoke until the door resounded with a heavy thud, footfalls down the stairs letting them know they were alone.

Savos spoke first, his words angry as he spat them out. "I thought you were dead."

A shrug rolled off Siulon's shoulders. "Everybody did. That was the point." She crossed her arms and stared blankly up at him. "Most people don't fake their death's unless they want to hide."

"Why would you just vanish like that? Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" He clenched a hand, and Siulon could easily see his jaw rigid and eyes narrowed even without her sight.

The dunmer gave a soft sigh, lowering her head shamefully. "Savos... I had to... I was in danger, I could not stay in the Imperial City any longer you must understand."

"What danger?" The skepticism was like a slap to the face, and she ducked her head. The female dunmer fished in her satchel for something, and pulled out a small book that she offered to Savos. He took it with a soft scowl, until he actually looked down and saw the pattern upon it. "Is this who's I think it is?"

"Yes... It's hers..."

Savos looked up at her, and shook his head. "What happened to her? Your sister... Did you find her?"

Siulon nodded her head slowly, the mage's blind gaze lowering back to the ground below in memory. Even without vision she could see those past events playing before her eyes, colors and blurry shapes rather than defined images. When she spoke, her voice cracked. "I was too late... When she was infected, I spent months trying to find a cure, and eventually those months turned into years. You remember how I'd vanish for weeks on trips based on little more than rumors do you not?" He nodded. "Well eventually I did find something, a chance at a cure for my sister! I was overjoyed, so filled with relief, I thought surely she would accept it! But when I went to where I found out she was hiding... she was so different... My sister was gone Savos, and in her stead was a monster that wanted to turn me into a vampire just like it and the dozen thralls she had already done so to. She... It tried to kill me." With a grimace, Siulon rolled up her left sleeve, revealing a deep bite like scar just above her wrist. "It nearly did." She pulled her robe back down, feeling his eyes burning into it.

Savos shook his head, confusion rippling off his body in waves. "But how did you survive?"

"I was prepared, I had known it was a possibility after all I had been studying vampires for two decades at that point. I just... Never thought it would actually happen."

"Dare I ask what became of Gadyali?" Blank eyes met him, and he sighed softly with understanding. "I see... I'm sorry Siulon, for everything you endured but why did you have to leave afterwards? You should have been free at last from your plight and been able to come back to the Guild without worry."

She gave a fierce shake of her head. "No, I could not. Gadyali was not alone anymore, not like when she was turned. She had a whole clan built around her while it took me so long to find a way to cure her. They were all so furious I had killed their master they began to hunt me. If I had not already learned the proximity spell I surely would have perished a hundred years ago." She flicked a hand, a small flash of light around it as she strengthened the spell, a subtle invisible wave spreading out through the room to paint a picture in the woman's mind like broken shards of glass. She could tell there was a desk and bed and many other pieces of furniture and magical equipment in the room, decorations and... a tree? Siulon frowned as she focused on the spell, and surely enough that was a tree. Savos had always been a curious man but she couldn't fully believe he had a whole tree in his quarters. Something about it she found endearing, and she smiled softly, not realizing just how that would be perceived.

There was a sharp snarl in the room, and Siulon snapped her attention back to the mage before her, her scope of the world dwindling down to Savos and Savos alone. "You could have _told_ me! You could have trusted me! I was investigated you know? The Mages Guild thought I had done something to you! That after everything we'd been together, that I would harm you!"

Siulon snapped her head up, squaring up to the taller dunmer and scowling. "But you did hurt me Savos. You're the one who did _this_ ," she pointed to her eyes, milky white orbs staring at the mage who cringed guiltily, "remember?"

"How could I forget?" His shoulders slumped, a terribly sorrowful sigh escaping him. "I was just a little too confident... Just a little too sure of myself. I thought that I had control of that spell, I really did, but then you..." Savos reached out, one hand gently caressing the scarred side of Siulon's face. She did not retreat like he had expected, but instead leaned into his touch slightly. The male bit his cheek and shook his head. "You were always so beautiful my dear... I couldn't keep my gaze off of your for a moment. Then in the one time I needed to... I failed you, and I will forever be filled with sorrow over what I have done to you. In all my life I never would have wanted to harm you."

Blind eyes lidded half-closed, the female dunmer reached up and caressed Savos' cheek, before pulling him in for a long kiss. When she pulled back, she cracked a sad smile. "I know my Love... It's why I have returned..." Savos wrapped her in a hug, pulling her against his body, refusing to release her so long as she would allow it. They remained like that for some time before Siulon pulled back, and kissed him once more. "I know I have done wrong by you for vanishing, but I promise if I had thought I could risk telling you... I would have. Azura I would have. One hundred years I have lived with that guilt, knowing that I had hurt you, knowing that you would probably never forgive me." She ran her hand down his face, the beard he had grown since she'd last been with him taking her by surprise. "I just could not bare to stay away any longer."

Taking her by the hands, Savos whirled the pair around and stole a kiss himself, slowly guiding Siulon towards his bed. "Then don't," he huskily whispered, "Stay here at the College with me, teach and do what you were meant to do!"

She chuckled softly, lightning shooting up her body with building excitement. One of her hands brushed between his legs, feeling a certain hardness and she gave him a devilish grin. "You don't even want to wait a bit now do you?" Though she could not see it, she knew exactly the kind of smirk he was giving her. "Always so eager..." She purred as she allowed herself to be lowered onto the bed. "But what would your professors think? The Arch-Mage sleeping with one of his new teachers, so scandalous!" The mock horror in her voice earned a laugh from the dunmer as he began to strip himself of his robes.

"Well who's to say they need to find out?" He replied smoothly.

Siulon bit her lip slightly, pushing her hips up towards him as she worked at her own clothing. "Scandalous!" She repeated, getting her top robe off. "But I can't deny I like the idea of being your _dirty_ little secret," she purred in his ear before kissing his neck. Savos chuckled, wrapped an arm around her, and removed her chest band. Siulon gave a needy whisper, trying to focus solely on what was happening and not the rather awkward and emotional talks they'd be having after. For now at least, she could just... melt away and pretend that time hadn't passed, that things hadn't changed... But she knew better than anyone else that everybody changed given enough time.

As he bit her ear, hitching her breath before his hands explored beneath her hips, Siulon gave off a throaty moan. At that moment, she didn't care, just so long as he hadn't changed in one thing in particular, and so far it seemed he hadn't. When he paused, asking silently for permission the dunmer scowled and simply said it. "Oh for Azura's sake! Just sod me already!" Savos gave a laugh, and happily obliged. If this was how things were going to be around the College, Siulon believed she might actually stick around. Savos' reaction had been a delightful surprise, and for once she wasn't going to question it more than she needed to. She'd just enjoy it while it lasted.


	3. An Oath

**An Oath**

Lydia squinted her eyes, looking at the black ink script as she tried to read by candlelight, a slight strain on her eyes as the wick died out once more and cast the room into a half darkness, the burning cooking fire in the center the only thing illuminating the single room floor. Grumbling to herself, Lydia put the book down and relit the candle, frowning as she did so. As the warm glow returned, and she turned back to the page she'd been on, her thoughts began to drift. It was somewhere around four in the morning, and despite herself Lydia had stayed up the whole night awaiting the return of her Thane. It was stupid really, she would probably be in just as foul as mood as when she left when Yosa'Min would at last return, but Lydia couldn't shake the gnawing worry that ate at her from the inside out. Following Yosa'Min wasn't a good idea, as she'd done that before and the redguard had nearly swung at her in retaliation. Having learned her lesson, Lydia stayed home and waited.

She pressed her hand to her brow, trying to stay the slowly growing headache from exhaustion, and then got to her feet. Deciding to begin cooking something to eat, hoping that would cheer her Thane upon Yosa'Min's arrival, Lydia made her way to the kitchen area of the first floor of Breezehome. She had just gotten out the knives and a pot when the door swung open, and in stumbled an overtly drunken Yosa'Min. Lydia brightened at first, relieved to see Yosa'Min unharmed, until she noticed the gait in her walk and the odor of ale rushed into the house. Crinkling her nose with disgust, Lydia shook her head softly as she began to slice carrots on a board.

"You're finally home," she remarked.

Cloudy blue eyes squinted up at her. "I didn't tell you to wait up on me," slurred the redguard harshly, stumbling over to one of the chairs around the cooking fire.

"No but you didn't tell me not to either."

Scowling, Yosa'Min held her hands out before the flickering flames. "Whatever."

They were silent for a bit, Lydia focusing on making a stew while Yosa'Min slipped into some drunken otherworld. The nord scowled softly, frustration building up in her once more. She didn't know what she was expecting sometimes, she was getting used to the weird habits of her Thane but still it grated her to no end what the redguard would do somedays. They'd been living in Breezehome for four months now, having killed Alduin some time ago. While there had been a massive celebration in Whiterun, Yosa'Min had opted out and instead went home to Falkreath to visit her brother. However, much to Lydia's surprise the redguard had returned just a few short days later, utterly shattered and broken. It had confused and concerned the nord to no end, but try as she might have the redguard was a stone cold wall, refusing to say anything at all to Lydia for days. One morning Lydia had woken up and she was simply gone, Yosa'Min's horse Archer as well, and the housecarl had been left wondering for a week before Yosa'Min returned, just as broken as before if not a bit more.

It didn't take her much to figure what had happened, but without facts Lydia didn't like to speculate. Instead, deciding to let the redguard take her time and speak when she was ready to, Lydia began to fall into a habit of waiting up on a drunken Thane to stumble back home, throw somethings or swears around, and then have to be put to bed only for the whole thing to repeat itself the next day. Nords weren't known for the patience, and Lydia's was certainly wearing thin.

"Would you care for some stew when it's done or would you rather go straight on up to bed?"

"Neither."

Clicking her tongue, the nord shook her head. "Either or, my Thane, you must eat or sleep in your state. Perhaps it would be best for me to help you to your bed now and you have the stew after a few hours of rest." She moved towards Yosa'Min who instantly reeled, jumping to her feet so haphazardly she bumped the nearby end table and sent a tray of apples flying.

"Stay away from me!"

Lydia held her hands up slightly, trying to show she meant no threat or danger to her Thane. "Calm down my Thane, you're just not in your right mind right now."

"I said stay away from me..." Growled Yosa'Min lowly, eyes dark with menace.

"Please, you must rest," pleaded Lydia, trying to let her concern show more than her frustration though it was a difficult task.

"No."

"My Thane!"

"Shut up Lydia!" Yosa'Min shouted, her hands balled into fists, her stance so tense the housecarl thought she might attack her. Lydia stepped away, scowling. "I don't need a mother, I've never had one and I certainly don't need one now!"

Speaking through clenched teeth, the nord shook her head. "I'm not acting as if a mother would Yosa'Min, I'm just trying to serve and protect you as I have sworn to. This is what being a housecarl means."

"I don't want a housecarl though," spat Yosa'Min, "I never asked for you and I certainly don't want one now. You're not my friend, you're not my family, you're just an annoyance that lives in my house."

Taken aback, the nord's hazel eyes were wide as moons as she processed just what had been said. When she had, a fire built up within Lydia that was not about to be put out with a few honeyed words. "You know when I swore to serve you in front of the entire city, I thought I was going to be pledging myself to a hero. I had heard stories already of how you had escaped Helgen, or how you had delved into Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve something ancient to defeat the dragons. Then you _killed_ one."

"I know what I did."

"I just wish I knew who you were then. I imagined you were some grand hero, maybe you were destined to be the second Talos! You're the Dragonborn for Divines sake!"

Scowling a bit deeper, Yosa'Min shook her head fiercely. "Sorry to disappoint, but you really should stop believing everything you hear," she jeered. Biting her tongue for a moment, Lydia hardly stopped herself from saying something truly horrible. Instead, she lifted her chin and grew silent. Disgust swirled in her eyes, loathing and disbelief so thick that Yosa'Min mistook it as the same look she'd been getting her whole life; the look of one who thought they were superior. "Stop it," she gritted, hands balled into fists.

"Stop what?" Lydia's brow furrowed together.

"Stop acting like you're so damn better than me!"

"Excuse me? When have I ever done that?"

Yosa'Min whipped a hand behind her, fierce as a dragon, and then pointed a finger accusatorially at the nord who scowled in return. "Every time you look at me, you've got this pitying expression, this regret and disgust, so plainly painted on your face I want to vomit."

"I think that's just the excess amount of mead you've been drinking these past weeks."

"There you go again!"

"What in Oblivion do you think I'm trying to do my Thane? I have nothing to gain from you being a drunkard, from you getting into fights with nobles over stupid things and scaring the locals by shouting in that strange dragon tongue? The title of being your housecarl used to be a prestigious one, but now it's nothing more than a joke. I've become the caregiver of a grown woman who will soon have drunk herself to an early grave if she doesn't stumble off the rocks or get trampled by her own horse!"

The Dragonborn shoved Lydia backwards, the nord's legs bumping the table behind her. "That's all you think I am? Some drunk? Some fool? I can show you a drunken fool, oh trust me I can if that's what you think I am!" She turned and began to saunter towards the door. Lydia bristled with alarm, and quickly started after her, easily outmaneuvering the drunken woman and blocking the door.

"Enough, you're going to bed this instant."

Slurring, the redguard tried to brush pass Lydia, but the nord was more firm on her feet than the intoxicated rogue. "You're not my mother."

"And thank the Gods for that," Lydia drawled. "If you go out there, the little reputation you still have will be gone. You're a hot mess and need to sleep. Please, I beg of you, don't sully yourself any further."

"I don't care about what these people think of me! I've never cared what anyone has thought of me except my family, and guess what Lydia you're not that and these nobles and everybody else certainly aren't." Lydia flinched at the volume, pressing against the door as Yosa'Min's voice rose higher and higher. "Now if you don't get out of the way then we're going to have a serious problem!"

Standing firm, the nord shook her head. "I can't do that. As your housecarl I am to protect you from any threats to you, even yourself."

"Move!"

Lydia shook her head once more.

" **FUS!** "

The world was a painful blur as Lydia felt a blast of air strike her in the chest, propelling her backwards through the finely crafted door, breaking it off its hinges and exploding the wood into a thousand splinters. She grunted as her back slammed into the cobblestone street, thankful for the armor she had still been wearing, and rolled to the side to keep her head from striking the ground. By the time she was back on her feet, Yosa'Min had scrambled after her, screaming something rather profane and a fist aimed at Lydia. The nord grunted, planted herself, and grasped the redguard's wild strike before twisting the woman around and pinning her arm behind Yosa'Min's back. The Dragonborn shouted something else, kicking out with her legs to try to get Lydia to release her. Careful of where the wild kicks were going, Lydia twisted them around and then shoved Yosa'Min into the street, one foot planted firmly between the woman's shoulder blades while she restrained one arm. Yosa'Min gave a cry of pain from below, but Lydia hardly headed it any mind.

"Enough of this!" She snarled, "Stop acting like a fool!" Face pressed into the cold stone, Yosa'Min looked down at the gawking guards and early morning citizens. A few farmers she recognized were staring with horror and confusion, while a certain redguard noble sneered down at her. Nazeem. With a fierce renewal of anger, the woman twisted her head just enough at Lydia and took in a deep breath, a tell-tale sign that she was about to unleash another shout. Lydia released her, jumping backwards to safety, and scowled. "Please, stop this madness."

"It's not like I can really lose anymore dignity," she replied before she rushed towards Lydia once more. Hissing in frustration, the nord dodged the attack and swept Yosa'Min's feet out from under her. The redguard rolled to the side, but was so heavy with drink she struggled to her feet too slow and Lydia grasped her by the shoulders and threw her onto the street once more. This time she pinned the woman by using her weight, and Yosa'Min was too weak to throw Lydia off who was also pressing down on the redguard's skull to stop her from trying another shout based escape. The woman struggled, but it was in vain. Eventually she gave up and the redguard grew still.

"Are you done throwing a fit now?" Snarled Lydia. Yosa'Min gave a weak nod. "Good, because I'm done too. You can clean up the mess yourself, we're finished here." She got up, and stomped away, leaving behind a sniffling woman. She didn't stop to look back, instead focusing entirely on the path up to Dragonsreach. This had been something building for a long while, piling on little problem on top of another until at last it broke. She refused to be treated like this, a punching bag and an annoyance, as if she wasn't important. When she had agreed to becoming a housecarl this was not what she had imagined.

Gritting her teeth with annoyance at the thoughts, Lydia had turned around the clan houses and was near the Talos shrine. She was still fuming as she stormed up the steps, determined to force Jarl Balgruuf to release her from her oath, Lydia was halfway up the steps when she heard it. A cry. Stunned, the woman looked over her shoulder to the rest of the city, where down below in the early morning light she could make out the limping form of Yosa'Min. The redguard was struggling after her, going about the streets a drunken mess, begging for her to wait and uttering a stream of apologies. Lydia frowned, brow furrowed with confusion. Certainly Yosa'Min was a bit bi-polar when she was so heavily intoxicated but this...

Before she could stop herself her feet were moving down the steps and she was besides Yosa'Min, grasping the woman by the shoulders and staring into her eyes. Pained blue clouds gazed back at her, and the nord felt her resolve wavering. It really was like dealing with a child. She grumbled under her breath and began to lead Yosa'Min back towards Breezehome. The eyes of the awakened citizens, as the Thu'um had stirred many to their feet, fell heavily upon the duo as they departed. Lydia felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, but she said nothing, Yosa'Min babbling softly besides her more apologies. As they reached the broken door, the nord cringed, and helped the redguard inside. She had to carry the drunk upstairs before setting the woman down on her bed, kicking the door in the way open along the way. As Yosa'Min settled at last, still a mess, Lydia lingered.

She should probably just walk out right then. There was no way Yosa'Min would be able to follow her, not in the condition she was in. It would have been so easy in fact, to simply grab her things and walk outside, there wasn't even a door standing in her way now. Her heart however, wasn't as easy to convince like the rest of her that was fed up with Yosa'Min. Hazel eyes cast themselves to the now slumbering fitfully woman, taking in her pitiful condition. How could she leave her like this? Lydia gritted her teeth. She'd sworn an oath to serve this woman with her life, through all that would come their way, that she would not falter and that she would not give in. No matter what burden she would bare, she would do it with dedication and willingness, not a begrudging resentment. There was literally no way for her to stop unless she turned her back on everything she valued and stood for.

What would it say of her if she did?

One hand forming a fist, Lydia punched the door and made her way out of the room, gritting her teeth. This woman would not break her, and she would not change her, of this Lydia was certain. Beginning to clean up the shattered remains of the front door, Lydia ignored the looks of the citizens around her. This was the start of another day, and she would take it as such, hoping to put the darkness of the night behind her yet finding a new source of motivation. A challenge almost. The housecarl was done trying to be Yosa'Min's friend, because that wasn't going to work and after tonight she didn't care to be the woman's friend either. She wasn't going to allow Yosa'Min to even think she could be scared off, because like it or not they were stuck with each other until one of them died. Grimacing, Lydia looked up at the cloudy dawn sky, and sighed. Hopefully it wasn't going to be her first.

* * *

 **AN: So while we got to see some of how Lydia and Yosa'Min used to be in Two Thieves, I was really eager to show you another instance of how things were before. I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading!**


	4. Enthralled

**Warning: Contains spoilers for Chapter 30 of "At Dawn's Light"**

 **Enthralled**

A shrill scream pierced the air, reverberating off the dank cave walls and echoing out into the large cavern a young elven boy found himself trapped within. He shied back against the metal bars that held him prisoner, hiding his brown eyes behind dirtied hands. A pair of glowing red eyes watched him, unwavering as time stretched on longer and longer, while a second was mostly just observing his captor. Imre sniffled, wiping the tears from his face as another scream bashed against his long, pointed ears.

"Please," he whimpered pitifully, just barely peaking out from behind his hands. "stop hurting my family."

The watchful eyes owner cackled, white fangs catching the faint light in the cave from the glowing fungus on the walls. "Silly boy, why would we ever do that?" They jeered with a hissing voice.

"Because hurting people is wrong!" His response earned another sneering laugh. "It is!"

"How cute," a new voice said, a third pair of burning ruby orbs coming up towards the shivering child. Try as Imre might, he couldn't make out more than a faint outline of the tormentors about him. Still, he could tell that this one was closer than the others, looming towards the small dog sized cage he found himself crammed into. "We are being taught morals by a child!" Exclaimed the newest pair of eyes, snickering a moment afterwards. "Tell me child, who taught you those morals?" The voice Imre assumed belonged to the same pair of eyes was quite feminine, smooth and if the child had been older he would have found it seductive as well. Instead, he found something about the way she spoke unnerving, sending chills down his spine as if she spoke pure ice.

Fearful, Imre shook his head, and to his horror the woman easily saw the gesture, and he soon regretted it. "When I ask you a question," she hissed, reaching through the cage in a flash to grab the collar of his jerkin and pull him up until he was pressing against the rusty metal bars. "You best answer me!" Imre cried as pain filled his body, having hit the cage sharply. The woman's fingernails dug into his skin like claws even through the thick material of his shirt, drawing blood that ran in little rivulets down his chest.

"My Momma!" He shrieked at last, trying his hardest not to thrash about and only further upset the terrifying presence. "She said hurting people is bad!"

The woman waited for a long time, holding him there as if she was debating his answer, before releasing him. Imre fell with a heavy thump onto the cage, rattling the hanging contraption enough to send it swaying on the chain it was strung up to. As soon as he had his bearing, the young bosmer shuffled across the cage to the far side, cowering in fear of the monsters that loomed around him despite knowing it would offer no protection against their attacks both verbal and physical. "How old are you child?" Demanded the woman.

"Seven," he answered swiftly, shielding his face once more.

"And those people we found you with," she drawled as if bored, "they were your family?" He gave a mute nod. She narrowed her eyes, slits of red staring him down for what felt like another eternity. "I see... Very well then."

"Can I... Can I please see them? Momma and Poppa and my big brother, please can I see them?" Imre sniffed, brown eyes peaking out from behind his hands with the usual kind of optimistic hope one would find in a child.

The woman chuckled with a shake of her head, the glowing red bouncing in a way that reminded Imre of little fireballs. "There isn't much left to see." His brow furrowed with confusion. "They are dead child." Imre gasped sharply. "We drank their blood and disposed of their corpses, our hounds will be well-fed for days."

Time felt slow to the boy, her words ringing in his ears but not quite processing. _That's not possible_ , he was telling himself over and over again, _people don't drink blood._ "You're lying!" He accused, voice pitched so high the woman cringed in discomfort. "I want my Momma! Poppa!" He jumped forward in the cage, fingers wrapping themselves around the bars as he screamed for his parents, the trio of eyes hissing with annoyance as he continued desperately. "Valas! Big brother please answer me! Valas!" He went on like that for half an hour, tears welling in his eyes and his voice hoarse as his pleas went on unheard, begging for his parents and elder brother to appear on the far side of the cave and sweep him off to safety.

Eventually, the young bosmer realized they weren't coming, and he collapsed on the cage floor, jostling it once more. Imre clutched his head, pulling at his pale brown hair and screaming, tears streaming down his freckled face, making streams down its dirty skin. "Why would you do that? Why would you hurt them?" He demanded, unable to keep still in the cage.

"Because it is what we do child," she purred in response.

"You're bad people!" Imre shouted, glaring at them as he began to slow down in his fit.

"Perhaps, but there is a bad person inside of everyone, even your parents. Did you know your father tried to run? He wanted to leave you and your mother and your big brave brother behind and save himself when we attacked." Imre shook his head vigorously. "Oh, don't want to believe me? That's too bad," she tutted, shaking her head right back before a hand grasped the tight linked bars, Imre just able to make out the shine of claws in the darkness. "You probably don't want to know how your brother jumped in front of your mother to protect her, only for my loyal hunter to strike them both down together. A waste, honestly, he would have had more use than you. But then again, where were you hmm? In all that mess, where was that little bosmer child my dear? Where were _you?_ "

"What are you talking about? Poppa told me to hide so I did."

"Ah, and hide you did!" She chirruped, confusing Imre further. She was terrifying him, aggressive and hostile one second and then sadistically tormenting him the next. "I must say I am most impressed, I have not seen such skilled cowardice in years! Not even your father was that good, and he fled the moment he saw us."

"Poppa would never do that, he must have been going and getting help," Imre defended.

"But how can we know that?" She challenged.

"He wouldn't!"

"Would he?"

Imre grew quiet, shivering in the cold, staring at her with confliction. He knew he family, he knew his father, there was no way this horrible woman was telling him the truth and yet something about the way she spoke seemed to make him think otherwise. A sweetness in her voice that wrapped itself around his ears like how his mother would shield them from his father's furious shouts. Shaking himself, Imre sat up in the cage, scowling deeply at the trio of red eyes. "You're monsters!" He screamed, accusing them with a surprising bit of anger for a child his age. "You're liars and killers and terrible people!"

"Close," purred the female pair of eyes, "but let's get a bit more specific shall we?" As if they had been waiting for a cue, a series of torches were lit about the cave, casting orange shadows on the trio and the boy. Before Imre was a woman, garbed in black leather and cloth, accents of red adorning it that complimented her pale completion and flowing red hair. Flanking her was two men who wore similar clothes, only theirs were not quite as elegant in appearance as hers. Each of their eyes glowed red even in the light, faces stiff like the dead with split lips and crinkled noses. Imre gawked with terror in the cage. "We are vampires child," she said with fangs glinting, "and I have plans for you."

Imre shuddered, trying to escape in the cage, but there was nowhere to go. "Please, let me go!" He pleaded desperately. "Please! I don't wanna be here!"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly do that..." She trailed off, sniffing slightly as if she had suddenly recalled something, "What is your name boy?"

Remembering to answer her swiftly, the bosmer child replied, "Imre."

"Imre?" She shook her head distastefully. "That won't do. Syldus, child, your name is Syldus now."

"But-"

"Syldus," she growled tightly, Syldus not offering any further argument. "Now then, I think it is time we got you out of that cage yes?" She inquired, snapping her fingers for one of the two gruff looking men to come forward. With a few muttered words, the one on the left, who's face was riddled with scars, stepped up to the hanging cage and fiddled with the lock. Once it was open, she gestured for Syldus to come out and he did so with much hesitation. The moment his bare feet were upon the damp ground, a sickly sopping noise made upon impact, the head vampire began to walk away, something telling Syldus he should follow her. She led him out of the small cave he had been within, more torches and glowing fungus illuminating the way as the tunnel sloped upwards, and he began to smell something foul.

Crinkling his nose, Syldus looked up at the woman's back, horrified of where he had found himself, before snapping his attention to the room they were entering. What he saw, roiled his stomach to the point he fell to his knees and vomited. The large cave was decorated with tables splashed with blood and gore, barrels and tankards of the red liquid spread about everywhere while a trio of vampires feasted upon some moaning thrall that lay upon one table. Six or so black dogs, shadows quite literally flowing from their bodies, were devouring what Syldus could only imagine was his family in a corner, gore smeared across their dark pelts. One of them looked up at him, red soulless eyes peered at him while a maw of sharp teeth grinned as if it wished to dine on him next. As he gathered himself together, the head vampire waiting impatiently for him to wipe his mouth clean, Syldus got to his feet with shaky legs.

"I don't like this place," he complained, "Can I please go home."

"You are home now Syldus," replied the woman, leading him out of the eating area to a chamber with coffins lined down it.

"What?" He gasped, believing she was about to stuff him in one and bury him. "I don't wanna die, please just let me go."

Tisking her tongue, the vampire turned to him, and waved away the duo who was quite annoyed looking. "Syldus, listen to me well for I will only say this once. We are vampires, we are creatures of the night which means we cannot go out into the sunlight like you can," she crouched down until she was eye level with the bosmer who sniffled once more. "Because of this, I have a use for you and a need for you, this is why you are still alive now. If you were not useful than I would have killed you with your family." He stiffened, brown eyes wide like the two moons. "Yes, I would kill a child."

"You're a bad lady," he whispered softly, hands clasped over his mouth in a fist.

With a smirk, the vampire flashed him her fangs once more, and placed her index finger upon his forehead. There was a flash of light from her fingertip, and Syldus stiffened as he felt a chill run down his body before a rush of warmth engulfed him. "Remember Syldus, we are all bad people... Some just do not know it yet."

Something about her words, he couldn't help but believe, and Syldus gave a soft nod in agreement. "But... Who are you?" He asked, peering up at her as she straightened up.

The smirk changed, less devilish and now more one of ego and pride. "You may call me Lady Cairia, and I am now your master." With that, she touched his brow once more, and Syldus gave a sharp gasp as he felt his energy sapped away, a red light curling around her finger, up her arm and in to her heart. All the boy could hear however, was the sound of his own breathing growing slow, before darkness engulfed him and he fell in a heap towards the ground. A moment before he was to hit it, Cairia caught him, lifting the unconscious bosmer child in her arms. She stared at his soft features, the innocence about him that was about to be robbed, imagining the horrors they were to commit upon him and force him to bear witness. As she handed him off to a thrall with the orders of, "Prepare him for the ritual," seemingly Cairia couldn't care. Any part of her that held children important, something to be safe-guarded and sheltered, had died long ago.

Soon enough, for Syldus, it would too.

* * *

 **AN: I've been very eager to get this piece up for you guys to read, but because we hadn't reached that part in the main story, naturally I couldn't show it here. But now that we have, I'd love to hear what you think, and if you'd be interested in more stories with Syldus in them. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it.**


	5. Moving On

**Moving On**

"So you've decided? You're leaving?"

Iona looked up from her bag as she packed it, uncertain on just what to leave behind. Rolls of clothing sat upon her bed, everything that Iona owned piled around the bag. "I can't be here anymore Yosa'Min. I just can't." She looked across the room to where a second bed rested, undisturbed in some time. "Every night I say goodnight to her, and she never answers... because she's dead." Her voice struggled to come through the rise of emotions, green eyes dampening as they roamed over the side of the room that had belonged to the brunet nord.

They'd spoken of Lydia, of course, since her death but there was an air of pain whenever they did. Yosa'Min wasn't too sure how to address the subject, death was so terrifying to her. What happened to their souls after they departed? She'd seen Sovngarde herself, a small part of her hoping Lydia had ended up in the nordic afterlife for great warriors, but even still it was difficult to grasp, to accept. Every time Lydia would come up, it was clear Iona wasn't sure how to process her loss either. She was a ghost that lingered on, haunting their memories and weighing in their hearts. Yosa'Min blinked as she realized Iona had begun to speak again.

"When I wake up I think of what she might want for breakfast. I wonder if she'd prefer to spend the day hunting or fishing. I- I-" Iona held her face in a hand, teeth gritted as she tried not to cry, she'd done so much of it since Lydia had died. "I want to help you find your brother and to be your friend, but I can't stay here."

Yosa'Min was frowning, blue eyes sad and dull as she looked at where her friend had slept. "She knew you were a mage, didn't she?"

"She was the first person I ever told, aside from family and an old couple that ran the inn," Iona sighed, "she thought it was spectacular." A small smile graced her lips as she remembered Lydia's awe, the way she smiled and sang praise, only to turn bitter with grief.

A few long moments passed, Iona dwelling upon memories and Yosa'Min staring at the bag. She'd known it was coming, this moment, the time in which Iona would decide it was time to leave. The nord had practically screamed her intentions weeks ago, the way she cleaned and fretted after Yosa'Min despite no longer being her housecarl, as if preparing her for a departure, assuring herself everything would be taken care of in her absence. _Old habits die hard,_ mused the redguard, knowing the phrase to be far too true.

After she found the strength to speak, Yosa'Min cleared her throat and met green eyes. "She would have wanted to you move on," Yosa'Min said, "to go to the College and pursue this."

Iona looked up at Yosa'Min, wiping her eyes dry. "You really think so?"

"Of course!" Swiftly replied the redguard, stepping towards Iona and putting a hand on her shoulder. It took some effort but Yosa'Min managed to smile up at her friend. "Lydia wanted everyone to be happy, to follow their heart and find a purpose. If she didn't, she would have given up on me a long time ago." Iona turned her gaze to the book still resting on the end table. She could remember drifting off to sleep as Lydia read it to her, sharing one of her great loves.

Her heart ached anew with the memories.

"I have to go," whispered Iona.

"I understand," replied Yosa'Min, "let me help you pack."

Iona moved aside with ease, allowing the redguard access. They debated the use of bringing some of her possessions along, eventually widling the possibilities down. In the end there were few belongings Iona wanted to take with her, leaving her armor in the chest at the foot of the bed rather than lug it all the way up to Winterhold knowing she wouldn't use it. It felt strange to leave her sword where it hung on the wall, shield besides it. How many vampires had she slain using it with Lydia in Morthal or Castle Volkihar? Images of fighting alongside the fellow nord filled her vision, and Iona struggled with pushing them away enough to focus.

After twenty or so minutes they were finished and had double checked it was all Iona wanted. Yosa'Min aided her in bringing her belongings upstairs, insisting on carrying the relatively light pack upstairs to the door. Iona followed behind her, a small smile upon her lips at the redguard's behavior as Yosa'Min began to prattle on about food and warmth along the road. "If you need to there's a small village called Kynesgrove, I protected it from a dragon attack during the Crisis, they might be willing to house you overnight even if the inn is filled if you mention me. A cold floor is better than snow and ice. Otherwise you can go to Windhelm, it's not far, just full of milk-drinkers."

Yosa'Min rummaged through the cupboards, pulling out bread and cheese wrapped in cloth. "Though I'd be real careful over there, lots of nasty rumors about the Stormcloaks forcefully recruiting people these days, and I think a serial killer is on the loose, could just be a bunch of hoarker shit though," she said as she packed the food away. "Do you need some torches? An extra cloak for the cold? I think it's still going to be snowing this week, do you want-"

"Yosa," Iona interrupted, holding a hand up, "I'll be fine. Thank you for the food… Are you okay with me leaving, truly?"

"I just…" Yosa'Min struggled to speak, casting her gaze aside, as her arms wrapped around herself. Iona patiently waited her answer that came in a sigh. "I'll miss you. I understand though, you need to leave." She leaned against the table, arms crossing. "I can't go back to Whiterun, even with Jarl Balgruuf wanting me present more. I just… I can't. So I get it."

"But will you be okay?"

Yosa'Min closed her eyes, thinking hard about her response before she forced a smile. "I'm not alone. Mjoll will be there for me if I need her, and Vex is down in the Ratways. Serana writes me too so I can talk to her."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded a bit more convincingly. "It hurts without her, I do it too sometimes, forget she's not there. It's so strange that you can do that, I just… It was so normal for her to be there that when I realize she's not-" her voice caught with emotion, and she dipped her head, gripping her left arm with the other. "I dreamed last night that she was reading by the fire, I could practically smell the flames and hear her talking and then when I woke up… nothing. Her favorite chair was empty and the fireplace charcoals. It was all just a dream."

Iona approached the redguard, such a powerful woman who looked so small just then. "If you need me to stay… I can't stay here but somewhere in Riften…" Iona started, a part of her unable to leave. "I don't want you to feel as if I've abandoned you."

A bitter smile came to Yosa'Min's face, and she took hold of one of Iona's hands. She was still getting used to touching someone and not being surprised at how warm they were. "Just write me okay?"

"Every day," vowed Iona, "I'll keep you informed of how my studies go. Perhaps I can learn something there that will assist with your search for your brother?"

"That would be splendid," Yosa'Min said earnestly, squeezing her hand. Iona gave a broken smile, there was no joy in either of their hearts. Pulling upon her hand, the redhead drew Yosa'Min into a firm embrace. "But please take care of yourself first, you're not my housecarl anymore you don't have to tend to me."

"My time as your housecarl might not have been as long as Lydia's or most to any thane," Iona responded softly, "but it was still something I'd trained for years to be, and it was something I was proud to do."

"Despite everything that happened?" Yosa'Min's voice was soft, hardly above a whisper.

Pulling back some to look Yosa'Min in the eye, Iona gave a firm nod. "If I had never become your housecarl I wouldn't have discovered and accepted so many things about myself. Losing Lydia hurts so… so very much, but I never would've considered I might be attracted to women just as much as men before. She was the first person I'd ever felt comfortable revealing my magic to. If it wasn't for you or her I wouldn't be on my way to train in magic, to learn what I'd dreamed of but denied myself my whole life."

"I'd be dead without you."

Iona flustered a bit. "I'm sure the others would've managed to save you somehow."

"No. It took each of you to bring me back. Lydia would've died by my own hands, I wouldn't have been able to accept that. I'd have snapped, I'd have become a true monster if I'd killed her. You saved her, and in doing so saved me."

Stepping away, Iona shook her head. "But in the end I wasn't good enough to save her."

"No one could save her from that."

"Siulon might've, or Collette!" She'd begun to pace, Yosa'Min instantly recognizing what she was doing. She'd done it far too many times to count.

Stepping towards her, the small woman refused to let Iona descend into that familiar self-depreciating pit. "Lydia died in an instant, there was no healing her. We both tried, we both failed, because it was impossible. Please Iona, don't do this to yourself. She wouldn't want this."

The pacing stopped, Iona gripping the edge of a dresser. "I know." Her head was lowered, face hidden by red locks.

"Then why do it?"

"It's so hard not to."

"I know."

Silence filled the space between them, Iona mulling in her thoughts as Yosa'Min watched her. The ache in her chest was growing, imagining life without Iona and having to tell herself that she was simply going somewhere else not vanishing without a trace. "Iona," she began softly, wanting to end things on a happier note than this. "If you think you could spare a few hours more in this place, might I make you a meal before you go?"

Iona turned back to her, the weight on her chest lifting some as she imagined one last pleasant night. "Okay," she said, stepping closer, "like when I first arrived?"

"Yeah, though I promise I've gotten better at cooking."

A smile and laugh was earned from the nord. "Might I help you nonetheless?"

"How could I possibly say no?" Smiled Yosa'Min, the pair moving into the kitchen now. "We should still have some fresh vegetables, would a soup sound good?"

"Gods yes," replied Iona as she began to pick out a pot and board for cutting, Yosa'Min easily grabbing the ingredients from a barrel, individually wrapped in cloth to help keep them fresh, and placed them besides Iona who began to chop them up. The short woman then grabbed the pot and headed outside to collect some water, returning with snow that was placed over the cooking fire. With a quick utterance of some words the faintly burning embers were reignited, a powerful flame bursting to life to melt the white snow.

"Chicken or goat?" Questioned Yosa'Min, "I think we have some in the cellar."

Iona debated the options for a few moments. "Goat."

"Alright, be right back," replied Yosa'Min as she ducked downstairs. When she'd returned Iona was no longer alone, a handsome nord man standing besides her dressed in guard armor with his helm removed.

"I thought I'd missed you," he was saying, Iona staring at him with wide eyes, a flush to her face. "I tried to get off my shift sooner but the captain wasn't having it, thank Talos you haven't left yet."

Iona shook her head. "I would have stopped by the keep to find you," she replied, "I wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye."

Yosa'Min arched a brow as she walked into the kitchen. "Who might this be?" She asked, noting he looked extremely similar to Iona, down to the same shade of fiery hair.

Clearing her throat, Iona gestured to the guard. "Yosa'Min, this is Luca, my brother. Luca, this is Yosa'Min, my former Thane."

Luca's eyes widened as the redguard smiled at him, holding a hand out. "It's an honor to meet you, Dragonborn," he said as he took it, giving a firm shake.

"Ah- she doesn't really like being called that," Iona whispered, Luca paling with dismay.

"It's alright," she replied, shaking her head, "would you like to join us for dinner Luca? We just began to prepare a stew."

With an eager nod, Luca smiled. "Yes please! Though I'm afraid it'd be best if I only observed."

Snickering with agreement, Iona turned her attention back to the stew. "You can plate the table then," she said, "and assist Yosa'Min with washing the dishes later."

"He needn't do all that," chided Yosa'Min, "he's a guest."

"He's also my brother," replied Iona, the man rolling green eyes but not disagreeing with her. "It is great to have you here though," she added sincerely to him, Luca giving a soft smile. "After everything that's happened…"

Luca placed a hand on her shoulder. "Dad was a blind old arse, and wrong to have said what he did. You'll make a great mage, just like you make a great warrior."

Tears welled in green eyes, Iona struggling with containing her emotions, Luca doing her the favor of pulling her into a tight embrace. Yosa'Min smiled tenderly at the display, the duo separating after a minute. "Come on," Yosa'Min said, "let's make your last meal in Riften a good one." The redheaded siblings gave agreeing smiles.


End file.
